


Febuwhump 2021 No. 7

by Sapless_Tree



Series: MacGyver Febuwhump [7]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump, Febuwhump, Febuwhump 2021, Food Poisoning, Gen, Matty gets mentioned a little, Poison, Sick Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Vomiting, Whump, macgyver whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29412168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapless_Tree/pseuds/Sapless_Tree
Summary: Febuwhump 2021 No. 7Prompt: poisonMac swallowed hard; there was just so much saliva in his mouth. He let some of it dribble past his lips into the toilet when swallowing seemed to become too much of an effort. All the while, Mac was aware of Jack’s voice providing a steady stream of chatter. He couldn’t really focus well enough to understand a lot of it, so it was mostly just noise, but Mac was grateful for it anyway.
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016) & Riley Davis, Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: MacGyver Febuwhump [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137668
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Febuwhump 2021 No. 7

**Author's Note:**

> hello yes I am very slow about these prompts but it's okay hush
> 
> ALSO WE'RE IGNORING THAT I UPLOADED THIS WITH NO TAGS AT FIRST SORRY

“Only you, Mac, only you,” Jack said with a shake of his head as he drove through the snow. “How the hell does this always happen?” 

Mac was in the passenger seat, cradling his stomach and resting his head against the cold window as he tried not to throw up everywhere.

“Been asking myself the same thing,” Mac mumbled with another queasy hiccup. 

Jack glanced over at his partner then focused his eyes back on the road. “Hey, no puking in the rental. If you’re gonna hurl again you do it out the window or tell me to pull over, you hear?”

“Mm-hm,” Mac hummed, pressing his forehead more solidly on the window-- the cold glass was soothing on his skin since, even though he wasn’t quite feverish, he was still hot and uncomfortable in that car. 

“Riley,” Jack said, addressing the girl in the backseat, “I can’t read the road signs with all the snow-- is it this turn or the next?” 

“The next,” she answered, glancing down at her computer screen for just a moment to confirm the directions. She lifted her head back up, gaze worriedly resting on Mac, who had brought his legs up to his chest as if he were trying to curl up and stop existing for a bit. “We’re almost there,” she said, hoping it was reassuring.

“Hear that, brother?” Jack asked. “Almost there. Then we’re gonna get you out of those uncomfortable gala clothes and set you up somewhere nice and comfy while we ride this out. How does that sound?”

“Pull over.”

Jack didn’t have to be told twice. As quickly (and carefully) as he could with the ice and snow, Jack pulled the car over to the side of the road. The car had barely come to a full stop before Mac was throwing open the door and retching into the pristine, white snow. 

Mac had already thrown up twice since the three had made it out of the gala they had been attending for a mission. It was a simple one-- intercept a dead drop to retrieve a thumbdrive with valuable intel-- and was pulled off without much issue (well, Jack punched a guy out, but that was more of a speedbump than anything else). And once it was finished, the three made it to the rental car and through an hour of peaceful driving before anything happened.

Closing the door once he’d finished, Mac took up his previous, curled up and miserable position, and told Jack to drive.

“I don’t get it,” Riley said. “We all had the same fancy, pretentious food they served at that gala. How is it only you’re sick, Mac?”

“He’s just lucky like that,” Jack teased sympathetically.

“It’s pretty common for some people to get food poisoning and not others even after eating the same food,” Mac said, squeezing his eyes shut against another wave of nausea. “Could be we have different reactions to the same contaminant, some portions were more contaminated than others, stuff like that.”

“I think I’d find that a whole lot more interesting if you weren’t lookin’ so green around the gills,” Jack said.

With another glance down at the directions on her computer, Riley spoke up again. “The hotel Matty’s set us up in is only a few minutes out, now.” There wasn’t a safe house close enough to the gala’s location for them to warrant heading there, so, upon hearing that their original plan to drive to the private airport nearby was a no-go (both because of a certain sick agent and because of the poor flying conditions) Matty made a call to get them a hotel room to stay in for the night. 

“Thank God for minor miracles,” Jack said.

“Small mercies,” Mac corrected, to which Jack gave a little ‘hm?’ and a quick glance at his partner and back. “I think the phrase you mean is small mercies-- they’ve got different meanings.”

“Yeah, whatever, man,” Jack said. “Point is you’ll have a real bathroom where you can puke your heart out pretty soon.”

“That’s gross,” Riley said, but the smile was evident in her voice.

Jack smiled with a shrug. “You’re welcome.”

“Hotel’s coming up on your right,” Riley said.

Jack made the turn, eyeing up the building. “Nah, c’mon,” he all but whined as he parked, “I know Matty didn’t get us a Motel 6.” But that’s exactly the place he had pulled into and parked at. 

“Over the phone, she said it was the closest place with a vacancy,” Riley said. She stole a careful glance at Mac who, judging by the slow, calculated breathing and scrunched-closed eyes, was fighting off another wave of nausea. “Besides, it’s better than being stuck in the car until it’s safe to fly.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jack said, pulling the key out of the ignition. “Last Motel 6 I was at, the shower ceiling was all moldy, and I found a bug in the bedsheets. A whole-ass bug. That ain’t right.”

“M’with Riley,” Mac mumbled. “Better than nothing.”

“You would be,” Jack remarked-- hotel rooms didn’t move, after all. “You ready to start moving, bud? Got a short walk inside and then you can crash on a bed,” he said. “Or in front of the toilet. Wherever’s better,” he added with a lighthearted tease.

Mac nodded and took a deep breath, psyching himself up to moving. Jack was out of the car first, Riley getting out right after, and Jack came around the car to help Mac out. Mac walked, stumbling, teetering along to the door of the hotel, with Jack at his side and Riley at the other, ready to steady him if his mediocre balance gave out on him in the snow. 

Even with an arm wrapped protectively around his unhappy middle, the icy pathway leading up to the door, and his general, abject misery, Mac was able to make it without incident.

Once in the hotel Jack checked them in and wasted no time getting them to their room. The whole place smelled like cigarette smoke, and while ordinarily, that wouldn’t have bothered any of the three of them too much, the strong smell was just another thing assaulting Mac’s already sensitive and taxed senses. Jack was sure that even if the whole place smelled like Febreze Mac would have gone just as pale either way.

“Go any paler there, hoss, and I’m gonna be able to see right through you,” Jack said as Mac b-lined for the bathroom. Riley gave Jack a playful shove as the door to the bathroom shut behind Mac.

“Leave him alone,” she scolded good-naturedly, “he’s miserable enough as it is. I’m sure he doesn’t need you reminding him of it every second.”

“I’m not pokin’ fun,” Jack defended, “and even if I was-- which I’m _not_ \-- kid knows teasing is just family’s way of saying I love you.”

“Why don’t you just say that instead, then?” The two’s pseudo-argument was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of hacking from Mac in the other room.

“Maybe when he’s done trying to recreate a scene from The Exorcist,” Jack said. “But here, since you’re so spicy about it, why don't you tell him you love him with a water and something plain from the vending machine down the hall, hm?” He said, handing her a few dollars from the wallet in his pocket. 

With an eye roll and fond smile, Riley was out the door. Jack took the opportunity to go over to the bathroom, knocking lightly on the door.

“Mac, you doin’ okay? You wanna let me in for a sec?” The only sound from the other side of the door was a grunt and the click of the door unlocking. Jack opened the door, and found Mac in about the position he’d imagined he would: hunched over the toilet, a sick, trembling mess, breathing slowly and deliberately. 

“Hey you,” Jack said, hitting the flush handle to send away what Mac had brought back up. “You forget how this thing works?”

“Not done. Gonna be sick again,” Mac said simply, keeping his face hovering over the bowl.

Jack crouched down next to the sick blond, rubbing his back gently for a moment before he spoke again. “I know you’re super comfy in this nice suit,” he joked, “but how’s about we get some of this off you, huh?”

Mac only nodded, making no move to shed the layers. Jack took the initiative, guiding Mac’s shaky limbs out of the suit jacket and slipping the tie off of his partner’s neck. He even took the liberty of unbuttoning the top few buttons of the dress shirt Mac wore, bringing his hands away just in time for Mac to heave up another wave of sick. It was mostly bile, bitter and acidic as Mac had already brought up whatever food he’d ingested. 

Jack stayed, rubbing Mac’s back soothingly through the next round of useless gagging and flushing the toilet for him when needed (with Mac’s unmoving, white-knuckle grip on the bowl, it was evident he didn’t have any plans to do it himself). 

Mac swallowed hard; there was just so much saliva in his mouth. He let some of it dribble past his lips into the toilet when swallowing seemed to become too much of an effort. All the while, Mac was aware of Jack’s voice providing a steady stream of chatter. He couldn’t really focus well enough to understand a lot of it, so it was mostly just noise, but Mac was grateful for it anyway. Ordinarily, Mac would have protested the hovering, protested Jack’s proximity to him while he was sick, but he was just too exhausted. 

The hotel room’s door opened, catching both of their attention. It was Riley with water, a few bottles of Powerade, and some snacks for them. The room didn’t have a bedside table, merely the two beds, a small dresser, an uncomfortable-looking chair, and a lamp, so Riley set the things down on top of the dresser and brought the water to Mac. 

He took it gratefully but barely got through two sips before he was gagging again. Still, nothing would come back up but stinging bile. 

And that was how it was for the next few hours. Riley was diligent in updating Matty while she left Jack to do his papa-Jack thing. She’d be right there with them if it weren’t for the small, cramped size of the bathroom. But she was just outside the bathroom door in that uncomfortable chair, just in case either one of them needed something.

Mac couldn’t throw up anymore-- there was nothing left to bring up at all, and when he did try to sip on some water, it came right back up. He didn’t dare test his luck with any of the food from the vending machine.

As it grew later, it was looking less and less likely that there’d be a conversation over who was sharing a bed with who because Mac seemed perfectly content with lying miserably on the bathroom floor all night. But of course, Jack wouldn’t hear of it.

“All right, c’mon,” Jack spoke gently. “You haven’t bought anything up for nearly thirty minutes now. Why don’t we get you settled in bed so you can rest up?”

Mac moaned, but let himself be maneuvered up off the ground and slowly guided to the bed closer to the bathroom. He flopped onto the bed, but Jack wouldn’t have that either, making Mac lie properly on it and tucking him up in the blanket. 

Jack held up the water bottle to Mac again. “You think you can try drinkin’ some this for me again?” He asked. Overall, Mac had maybe drunk a fourth of it, but it had been in small sips and all of it had come right back up.

“It’s not going to stay down,” Mac said with a groan, curling in on himself a little.

“You’re dehydrated, man.”

“Yeah, but if I’m just going to throw it back up, I’ll be expelling more liquid than I take in and be worse off.”

Jack pushed the water bottle into Mac’s hands anyway. “You keep that, then, until you can handle some fluids. We’ll try again in a couple hours, okay?”

Mac hummed in acknowledgment but quickly scrunched his eyes closed, moaning thickly through another wave of nausea.

“Ri, honey, can you--” Jack didn’t have to finish before Riley was talking, she knew easily enough what he wanted.

“I got it,” she said, on her feet in an instant. She retrieved the small trash bin from the bathroom and brought it over. Mac leaned over the side of the bed, gagging into it before Riley even had the chance to pass it to Jack. So she held it patiently while Mac merely drooled into it until he tired himself out. When he was done, he moved carefully back to a more comfortable position.

Jack carded his fingers through soft blond, subtly feeling for fever as he tried to soothe the kid.

“You’re a little warm,” Jack observed.

“There was an ice machine down by the vending machine,” Riley said.

“That’d be great if we had an ice bucket to keep it in,” Jack said. “Seriously, this place sucks.”

“It’s okay,” Riley said, passing the bin off to Jack. “I can put some ice in one of the hand towels from the bathroom.” 

Jack dutifully continued to run his fingers through Mac’s hair, even as the younger man seemed to drift off closer and closer to sleep. Riley grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom and left the room; she was back in under a minute, hand towel now carefully wrapped up around some ice. She was just tying off the ends of the towel as she entered the room, and she had probably run down the hallway and back to get it to them so fast. 

Wordlessly, Riley laid the makeshift ice pack on Mac’s forehead, careful not to wake him or get in the way of Jack’s methodically moving fingers.

“Jack,” Riley said-- the older agent looked at her. “We should probably get some sleep, too.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “I’m gonna stay with him.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Riley said. “Another person’s body heat might bring his temperature up more.”

Jack frowned; he knew she was right, but the idea of leaving Mac on his own to wake up sick sometime in the night (even if Jack would be only a few feet away)-- well, Jack didn’t like it one bit. 

“Yeah,” he said, looking at his sleeping partner. Jack just hoped he slept peacefully through the night and woke up feeling much better in the morning. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said, gently extracting his fingers from the blond hair. Jack took a second to stretch, satisfying pops and cracks rewarding the motion. “You need anything, sweetheart?”

“A pair of pajamas to change into would be nice, maybe something with pants,” she said, shifting uncomfortably in the shimmery gala dress. None of them had brought a change of clothes as the mission was really only supposed to take the few hours that the gala lasted and the plane ride home. They hadn’t anticipated staying anywhere overnight. “But other than that I’m good. A little tired.”

“Well we’ve got another bed right there with your name written all over it,” Jack said, shucking his own suit jacket and tossing his tie onto the dresser. Riley was already pulling away the tightly tucked sheets of the second bed.

“It’s got your name, too,” Riley said as she settled herself into one side of the bed. “No way you and your old man bones will survive a night on that uncomfortable chair.” Jack glanced at the chair and then back at the empty space in the bed. It wasn’t a hard choice.

“Just ‘cause I’m getting in the bed doesn’t mean I appreciate you calling me an old man,” Jack said, getting comfortable next to her.

Riley shushed him with a smile. “I’m trying to sleep, old man.”

“Yeah? Well hurry up and sleep already then, punk, before you wake your brother.”

“Night, Jack,” she said, the ghost of a smile still on her lips even as she relaxed further.

“G’night,” he returned.

\---

Riley always thought that the idea of waking to ambient, chirping birds sounded pleasant, natural, even. She changed her mind that morning. Damn birds. Cracking one eye open, Riley found that the room was still somewhat dark. It was morning, that was for sure, just still too early for the sun to have really come up all the way. 

Sitting up slowly, she was surprised to find herself the first one awake. Though, she did remember blearily feeling the weight next to her lift and dip more than a couple of times throughout the night. Jack must have been up checking on Mac all night as she mostly slept through it.

Riley felt a little guilty about sleeping soundly through Mac getting sick and Jack tending to him, but if anything, it left her more awake and rested to check on the blond that morning while Jack could catch up on some sleep.

She did her best to move quietly so as not to wake Jack up-- the plastic sequins on her dress crinkled as she shifted off the bed, and even her bare feet against the floor seemed too loud. But neither man stirred. Mac, she wasn’t as surprised since he was unwell, but Jack? He must have really worn himself out worrying. Riley padded over to Mac’s bed and found that the ice had completely melted overnight-- she had expected as much, but the gentle flush on Mac’s cheeks was worrisome. She took the wet hand towel off of him and, as softly as she could, felt the side of Mac’s face and his forehead. He was definitely warmer.

Riley took the wet hand towel and tossed it in the sink, grabbed a fresh one, and got some ice from the machine down the hall. When she returned and laid it onto his forehead, his eyes fluttered and gradually opened. 

“Hey, Mac. How’re you feeling?” His eyes roamed for a moment before settling on her-- he was still waking up. But something had her furrowing her eyebrows as she looked at him. “Did you hit your head at some point during the mission?”

Mac blinked at her a few times. “What?” He asked slowly, taking a second to register the question. “No.”

Riley gave up on being quiet. “Jack?” She called, seeing the older man stir. “Jack wake up, come here for a second.” 

Jack sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s up?” He asked, and then he noticed she was by Mac’s side. That woke him right up. “What happened? What’s wrong?” He asked, on full alert as he made his way over to them.

It seemed he saw the same thing she did. “Mac, bud, what’s up with your eyes?” He asked. Mac merely frowned in confusion. “They’re super dilated,” he said. Each blue iris was a thin ring around Mac’s enlarged pupils-- they were even, that was good at least, but definitely unnaturally large. 

Jack pulled his phone out (it had miraculously survived this time around, but Jack would trade a thousand phones if whatever was happening would just stop) and turned the flashlight on. Mac squinted against the offending light, but it was clicked off as soon as it had turned on.

“His pupils aren’t constricting,” Jack said, quickly pressing two fingers to Mac’s neck. “And his heart rate is way too fast.” Jack’s voice was calm, steady, but Riley could see it in the man’s eyes. He was freaking out inside.

Mac closed his eyes and hummed. “Think ‘s poisoning,” he mumbled quietly.

“Nah, man, this doesn’t seem like it’s just food poisoning,” Jack said, sweeping Mac’s bangs off of his face.

“Jack,” Riley said, eyes wide as the realization hit her, “I think he means poison. Like, _poison_ poison.”

They didn’t have time to panic, Jack knew that, but that didn’t stop the way his heart twisted with dread. “Forget the airport. Call Matty, we’re going to the nearest hospital.” Riley nodded and did just that as Jack eased Mac up out of bed. A stream of apologies came out as he moved the blond, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did, but knowing he had to get him to the car. 

Using one hand to hold the phone and talk to Matty, Riley used the other to pull on her heels, grab the hand towel of ice, and bring the small trash bin along with them as Jack carried Mac.

Jack was the one that drove, following the directions that Riley recited off from Matty. She sat in the backseat with Mac’s head in her lap as he was laid out as comfortably as possible across the seats. The trash bin was between her legs so that Mac could just turn his head and spit up into it when he needed to-- he did a few times, the jostling of getting him to the car having upset his already sensitive stomach.

Riley was pretty sure Jack’s superpower was actually speeding a ridiculous amount and not getting pulled over, because, for all the reckless driving he did, it was impressive that he was able to make it anywhere in a hurry without being ticketed. 

But if it got them to the hospital more quickly, Riley was all for it. They would get Mac there. He would be okay, she and Jack would make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I could not get this one to just end alreadyyyy, so yeah it's kinda left open to be a two-shot if I ever have to motivation to come back to this particular one. Maybe sometime after febuwhump or something


End file.
